Palm Of My Hand
by spheeris1
Summary: AU :: Spencer POV :: Angsty love :: Vague Spaiden content :: One-shot :: Life is what you make it, you know... :: Thank you, Ryan Adams.


_You could have been my girlfriend  
And I could have been your lover-man  
I should have been the very end for you  
And, girl, you should have been in the palm of my hand._

\

The way air moves over her cheek is annoying.  
But she gets annoyed easily.  
That's part of her persona, in this life and in this world, a bit of a bitch.

She just has too much attitude, she always has.  
Guys like it, makes her hard to handle. They think she'll be a wild-cat in bed.

And sometimes she is. Sometimes.

But he is breathing on her and she wants to pinch his nose and then cover his mouth and watch him die, blue in the face and choking on the oxygen he won't be getting.

Murder is still a crime.  
Leaving is the only safe option these days.

\

She packed a bag, once.

Once, she tossed shirts and pants and random things like necklaces, like an unfinished book she had been reading, a pack of stamps - all of it into a bag, one she zipped up and flung over her shoulder.

She packed a bag, once, ready to take off and not look back.

It's so easy, you know, to find the courage to go for what you want when what you want seems to be waiting for you.  
It's so easy to walk away from what you thought was safe to what you thought was dangerous, as long as that sweet sight of danger is close by.

She packed one damn bag and didn't bother writing some stupid note.  
He should know by now that their love was always forced, always too much like a lie.  
And he might not know who holds her attention so well, but it'll all come out soon enough.

She was ready, you know.

She was ready to break a family apart and cause a scene and get what she so desired.

I mean, she packed a fucking bag. She was serious. She was determined.

All that had to happen was to open that front door, to look out into the drive-way, to see that familiar car sitting there and to gaze into amber-glass eyes.  
That's all that had to happen. Just that.

And it didn't.

\

"I told you she was coming over."  
"No you **didn't**."  
"I **did**, Spence. You weren't paying attention, I guess."

Which is probably right. She doesn't listen to him much anymore. She never really did, though, but why start that fight?  
Why start anything at all?

And the knife goes through the carrot. And the water boils. And the bread gets buttery brown in the oven.  
And Aiden pops the cork on the wine.  
And Spencer imagines drinking the whole bottle.

Still, the door bell rings and there is small talk in the foyer and Spencer feels the steam of the water on her face and it makes her hot.  
But that's just a joke she tells herself.  
It's not the steam and it's not the water.

It's just Ashley, Aiden's sister, appearing in the mist like an apparition.

"Do you need help?"

And this is the first time she's heard Ashley's voice in probably a year or more.  
It should sound like shattering glass. It should ring out like an air-raid warning.  
It should hurt like hell.

And it does.  
Just not enough, though.

"Nope. Got it covered."

Spencer gets lost in the steam now, gratefully, barely catching the way that Ashley sort of slinks away instead of walking with purpose.

\

**of all the explanations, you both decided on the simplest.**

**she has a problem with drinking. you have a problem with him.**

**that didn't make it alright hours and hours later. but it made actions perfectly okay in the moment.**

**you were starting to regret - yes, regret - getting engaged to him.  
he was starting to bother you, mannerisms that you once found cute... oh, now, they just grated on your nerves.  
and there were times when you needed him, needed his support, and you suspected that now that he had caught you... well, now he didn't feel the need to fucking try at all.**

**and this party is like all the others, where he kisses you and you wonder if your feelings of irritation are rash. then he drifts off and forgets you and you remember why you wish you had never said 'yes' all over again.**

**so, you drank and you lamented and you got bored.**

**that is, until she showed up.**

**you've always liked her. liked her laugh and the way she didn't seem to care about anyone. liked how she would own the room with just a look.  
and she liked you, too.  
you didn't have to guess at it. she let you know all the time - with her grin and with her playful shoves and with her voice.**

**you like her voice most of all, that's what you think. and her voice would always get ten times warmer when she spoke to you. it was like a blanket in winter-time.**

**her voice makes you feel alive.**

**she sat by you the whole night and she made fun of the people, a whisper in your ear, and you both chuckled and you both drank so much.  
and, somehow, you both ended up outside of this massive house - currently filled up with his friends and his world.**

**but you guess they are her friends, too. you guess this is her world, too.**

**but he is annoying and she is not. you can't even compare them. and you wonder how they can be siblings, how they can share parents and blood and genes.  
it makes no sense and you say as much and she just shrugs her shoulders.**

**she ran off with a bottle of rum.  
the two of you pass it back and forth.  
you walk off the patio and she follows you.**

**it should have gotten hazy by then, that's what you think much much later, much later when you are sober.**

**but it didn't get hazy. you didn't forget. you can claim all the excuses you want.  
and you do.**

**but you remembered everything. seconds later, days later, months later.**

**you remembered it all too well.**

\

Aiden is on the phone with a co-worker, some guy that Spencer met at some office party.  
The guy is a pervert, always undressing Spencer with his stare.

There will come a day when he'll look for too long and she'll take away his ability to have children. She anticipates that day, too.

"This was good."

Spencer is startled anyway. It's like she was able to pretend Ashley wasn't really here at all, just a figment within her mind, a crazy delusion.  
But no, the brunette is nervously watching her and Spencer has to fight the urge to roll her eyes.

Maybe everyone annoys her these days. Or maybe it is just this brother-and-sister act that annoys her. Maybe she really needs to cut her losses and get out while she is still sane enough to do so.

"Thank you." Spencer replies, getting up and grabbing her own plate.  
She won't get Aiden's. He left the table early, he can clean up after himself.

But Ashley is up as well, grabbing various items in a quick way, like a child sucking up in order to earn leniency - one less day of being grounded, privileges no longer revoked.  
It won't work. It won't work and Spencer feels good about that.

Ashley wants back in. And the girl would probably take whatever she could, friend or AIM buddy or a fucking Facebook pal.

Ashley won't get that, though.  
She won't get a damn thing.

And Spencer feels good about that, too.

\

**the grass was wet against your feet and you couldn't find your shoes, but that didn't seem too important. not as important the liquid that was going down your throat and not as important as how your body was swaying side to side.**

**she pulled you around and kept you from falling.  
and she sang some song and she threw the bottle to the ground and that made you giggle.**

**that's when you made up your mind that this party was better than the rest.  
and it must be down to her. it must be her that made all of this fun, made all of this tolerable.**

**you tell her how you don't want to get married.  
she isn't upset. she props you up on this wall, this wall that turns out to be some dark side of this house you are not in.**

**and she tells you, oh she tells you something lovely, and you smile.**

**you smiled, didn't you, like it was Christmas.**

**and just like that, you leaned forward and kissed her  
and she could have pushed you away, but she didn't. and you could have thought of a million reasons to not do this, but you didn't.  
or maybe you did think of all those reasons, but you just didn't care.**

**you didn't care about him and you didn't care about a ring on your left hand and you didn't care that this wasn't too private and you didn't care that it was a girl, that it was his sister.  
you wanted what you wanted and what you wanted - what you probably had always wanted - was her.**

**the two of you kissed until touching became imperative.  
the two of you touched until silence became difficult to maintain.  
she was inside of you, fast and eager, and your leg was desperately hooked on her hip and her lips were on your neck and you gripped her back and you bucked against her fingers buried deep.**

**if it could have gone on for forever, you would have let it.  
this much you know.**

**and something in the way she said your name, the way it was torn from her as her center rocked upon your thigh after you were already starting to come down and you fisted her hair and encouraged her movements, the way she said your name let you know that she would have liked this to go on for forever as well.**

**of course, it couldn't.**

**but in that moment, it felt like it might be more than it was.**

\

"Can we talk?"  
"Okay."  
"Oh. Uh, okay, well-"  
"Did you vote?"  
"What?"  
"Did you vote Democrat or Republican?"  
"Spencer-"  
"Did you catch the meteor shower the other night? It was supposed to be a decent show."

Ashley sighs unhappily and Spencer takes a measured sip of her wine. Aiden's voice is a distant murmur down the hall, a shuffle of papers following his sentences.

Being a gopher for major players is not a great job.  
It is rather unforgiving.  
She should find some sympathy, but Spencer fears she is well on her way to bitterness.

It'll steal whatever is left of her youth. But what can she do? Fall in love with Aiden like she swore she was before God and all that?  
Forgive Ashley for fucking her and asking her to leave Aiden and then not showing up when the time arrived?

Joy is overrated, that's what Spencer thinks.

"You not going to make this easy for me, are you?"

Spencer swirls the merlot and likes how the lamp light catches in it, creating a cozy glow of red. And she can feel Ashley's wounded eyes on her person, on her face, on her damn lips.  
Like she has a right. Like she has a claim.

What sucks is that Ashley does have a right and a claim.  
She just blew it is all. Blew it all sky high.

"I'm not going to make it anything, Ashley."

That's worse than 'no' and the brunette knows it.

\

**once would have been swept under the rug.  
twice makes it less of a fluke, more of a problem.  
more than that and it's called cheating.**

**they cheated. over and over.  
it would start with avoidance, then build up to cautious acceptance.  
and just when it seemed that the line had been drawn and no one would cross it, someone inevitably would**

**they cheated. again and again.  
and somewhere along the way, you started fantasizing about a life with her.  
that should have freaked you out, but - strangely enough - it didn't.**

**and she had this way of holding you, of running her lips along your face, of leaving light trails along your stomach.  
she had this way of loving you without realizing it. letting you in deeper and deeper, so deep that you swore you saw her soul.**

**they were cheaters, though.  
it was cheating. on a fiancee. on a brother. on a life that the both of them still attempted to maintain.  
it was cheating and lying and deception, but you convinced yourself that that was just the outer layer to this affair.**

**at the core, at the heart of the matter, was the feeling bubbling up inside of you.  
rare and unexpected, this emotion you had forgotten how to feel, it lived in you now - every time you slid your tongue through her body and felt her tremble, every time you would slip into slumber by her side.**

**you were falling in love with her.**

**maybe you were always meant to fall for her. but then love will make you believe in such sentimental notions. it'll make you think that when she suddenly says 'leave him', that you actually have a chance at something real.**

**the lies will turn to truth. the cheating will fade to reality.  
you'll get to wake up to her and run your fingers over her skin and sink into her embrace, part woman and part child in her hold.**

**you'll finally figure out what all those dumb song are about.**

**because you were falling in love and you know she was, too.  
you know she was falling in love with you, too.**

**so, when she said to 'leave him', you didn't have to think it over.**

\

Her stare is so pleading. So damn needy.  
But Aiden is back and he is frustrated with work and he downs the wine in the glass in one gulp. And Spencer fakes her interest in his whining. Because that is all it is - a boy who doesn't get along well with the other kids - and she listens to him the way a tired parent would.

Catch some of the words. Make the right head movements. Pat the top of his head.

And, still, Ashley stares and stares.  
Spencer won't give in, though. Giving in never works, never feels as good the next day as it does when you do it.

Spencer gave in, once.  
She won't be doing it again.

"So, Ash, what about you? How's life in the city?"  
"You know, it's... whatever."

The girl is distracted, eyelids blinking and then tearing her focus from her brother's wife to the brother who is talking, and Spencer finds some spot to watch.  
The corner of the bookcase, where it almost touches the ceiling, an off-white color that blends with all the other shades of white in this house.  
That's where Spencer keeps her gaze, steady and calm.  
She won't give Ashley the satisfaction of her attention, not even for this, not even for idle conversation.

"Still seeing, um, who was it? Mindy?"  
"No. And it was Samantha."  
"Right, right. Sorry."

Spencer takes a deep breath. Releases it. Repeats.  
And she tells herself to get up, get more wine, start cleaning the kitchen.  
She tells herself to get away. She tells herself to say she has a headache and to flee.

But no, why make this easy on herself either?  
No one in this room has it easy.

She remembers Samantha.  
Spencer remembers Samantha and how much she hates a woman she doesn't really know.  
But hate is a silly thing.  
It'll come on as quickly as affection, won't it?  
It is just as irrational and just as reckless as longing.

Just as fucked up as anything else.

\

**after the crying and after taking those things from that bag, after sitting on that bed for a hour or more and staring at the floor, after he got home and asked what was wrong and you didn't dare try to answer him, after he went to bed and you went downstairs and sat in the dark...**

**after all of that, you got the keys to the car and you drove to her apartment.  
you had been there once or twice, before she became the reason you smiled these days.  
you had been there once or twice, now that she knew all the ways to dismantle you.**

**the highway was simple to navigate, with each exit making your heart pound more and more, a drum of anxiousness in your collapsing chest.  
and her building loomed before you, it sent the sound of your shoes echoing through the walkways and along the walls.**

**all she had to do was be here and you'd still let go of him.  
you had no shame. you had no urge to protect anyone. you just had to have her.**

**but one look at her face told you that nothing was to change.  
one look told you that her request was made in the heat of the moment, that her question was never meant to be answered, that guilt was settling in and she was going to break your stupid heart.**

**she grabbed it and squeezed and you couldn't breathe properly.  
and when a voice called out from behind her, she killed you.**

**she killed you and she knew she would do so.  
all right there in her eyes, those eyes you've looked into for so long, was the terror of loving you and was the back-pedaling.  
all right there, a hand landing on her waist and a healthy smile from behind her body and the offer of some name from some face that didn't mean a damn thing to you.**

**samantha. some on-again, off-again girl. and they were on again, weren't they?  
they were on and you were out.**

**samantha said come in and have a beer.  
and she didn't say a thing.**

**you did what you had to do, though. you are nothing if not capable in the face of anguish.  
you declined and you made up some reason for this late visit, something that was easily bought by this girl named samantha.**

**and you said good night.  
and you walked away.  
and you tried to remind yourself that this was nothing, this was not a relationship - it was a joke. the two of you were a joke to begin with. two people who weren't meant to be anything, just a blip on the screen, just a strange secret shared and nothing else.**

**you tried to laugh about it.  
but you never truly did.**

**you just buried it away and she just stayed away.**

**until tonight, that is.**

\

Making her escape, Spencer pushes the wet cloth over each dish and tunes out the talking in the other room, tunes out his boring cadence and her edgy responses.

And she watches the water go down the drain and she thinks that this is her life.

Down the drain, transient and transparent, there one minute and gone the next.  
And maybe that is all she was truly born to do, to fade like everyone else.  
Maybe that is why she bucks when put in her place - when she plays the good sister to her brothers, when she plays the quiet daughter for a naive mother and father, when she marries the first man who asks for her devotion - and then she turns around and loses her cool.

She's smoked weed behind the house. She's stolen money from her mother's purse. She's had more sex than anyone probably thinks.

Spencer controls the loosening of her own reins, most of the time.  
Of course, the only time she didn't do so sits in the living room right now.  
Right now, Ashley sits there and takes up space and removes energy from the atmosphere.  
Right now, Ashley is here - in this home that Spencer cannot stand, in this world that Spencer cannot fit within - and the brunette is so fucking beautiful, so fucking callous, still so alluring and wrong and perfect.

The glass hits the floor and a matching pair of eyes take her in.  
Aiden just sees the damage against the tongue-and-groove wood.  
But Ashley sees the damage in Spencer's wounded glare.

Spencer makes the girl see it. Makes the girl feel it. Forces the girl to take in some new guilt, some new terror, some new answers that neither of them want to acknowledge.

Aiden mumbles something about getting a broom and a dust -pan, which he does quickly, cleaning up the mess and taking it outside to the garbage bin.  
And Spencer turns back to the sink, closes her eyes briefly, turning the tap back on.

The hand on her back is too tender and she pulls away from the touch as if it burns her.  
Which it does. It does and they both know it.

"Please talk to me. I'll beg you if I have to, Spencer, but please... **please**, can we talk? Somewhere private, somewhere... I just need to talk to you, just for a bit, and then you can tell me to fuck off, I promise..."

Ashley's voice.  
That thing Spencer once loved and now loathes, that sound that Spencer once craved and now abhors.  
It is gentle and rough at the same time. It is the call of the siren. It is as broken as Spencer feels - cracked and in pieces, like the glass dropped moments before - they are fragments of people now, no longer as whole as they once were.

But giving in... No, Spencer cannot give in.  
She doesn't love this life of hers, she doesn't give a damn, but she won't be hurt again.  
She won't fall for that line or that care or those eyes.  
Ashley could have had her, they could have had each other, but it didn't go that way.

Life didn't grant them that beginning. Life didn't grant them that happy ending.

Spencer looks over and Ashley is so close.  
And the brunette must be mad, because she reaches out once more, cupping Spencer's face.  
And, for a second, Spencer dissolves into that action.  
For a second, Spencer remembers what it is like to adore someone and to be adored in return.

Spencer swallows hard.  
Ashley's gaze is so imploring.  
The door slams from the front of the house.

"You can fuck off right now."

And they mutually pull away.

\

The way his arm lays on her side bothers her.  
But everything he does bothers her.

Everything he does serves to make her sigh and grow more distant. Still, she attends the family dinners and she puts off that topic of children with kind smile and - if he works late - she doesn't stay up to greet him, but she allows his embrace once he is under the sheets.

But as he sleeps, she drowns.

And she almost left, once. She packed a bag. She was going to leave him. She was ready to see if there was more to living than existing.

She was ready to be in love.

But no, that was just another lie. Just another story. Just another disappointment.

And she imagines getting up, not even changing out of her pajamas, and walking out the door. Walking until she reaches another town, then walking more and reaching another state.  
Walking until she leaves the east coast behind, stumbling into the midwest and the forests and all those stretches of golden plains.  
Walking until she loses herself and can be someone else.

Less of Spencer Dennison. More of Spencer Carlin.

Whoever the fuck that girl is these days.

\

**just the once, you woke up and looked over at her and found her already watching you. she might have blushed. she might have carried the glint of someone caught doing something bad.**

**funny that neither of you seemed to feel bad about breaking vows or severing bonds.**

**she felt bad for studying you. she felt bad for wanting to stare at you.**

**it was barely daylight and the room was gray and black and all that stood out was her face.  
so you dipped down and moved quietly and kissed her.**

**you kissed her in such a way that you doubted you'd ever forget it.  
and you haven't.**

**and then you felt it, felt her smile into your lips.  
and she was so warm underneath the blankets and you kissed her chin and you kissed her cheek.**

**neither of you were perfect. so much of this was a mistake, you knew that.**

**but love is rarely wrong. it can be inconvenient and it can be forceful, yes, but love does as it pleases.**

**it'll have its way with you.**

**her hand was on your back, though, and it skimmed up into your hair and her leg pressed between your own and things had shifted so far beyond sex.**

**oh, the words you've said and never meant. you wanted to say them. you wanted to shout them. you wanted to carve them into stone.**

**just the once, you wanted to say them and hear them in return.**

\

"I love you."  
"Stop this. I don't want to hear it."  
"I love you and I'm sorry,** god **am I sorry... more than you can ever know..."  
"**Get**. **Out**."  
"I was afraid and I didn't want to hurt him, so I did something stupid, but my feelings for you have not changed. They've only gotten stronger-"  
"I **mean** it, Ashley, leave now or I'll call the fucking police."  
"No, please, you **have** to listen to me, Spencer. All this time away, you are all I could think about-"

Spencer has to laugh some, has to laugh or she will cry. Or get angry. Or do both, weep and punch Ashley in the face.  
It would feel nice, she knows this. And Spencer wonders if insanity has finally made a home in her mind, with daydreams of violence so rampant up there in the gray matter.

But she reasons that a person can only go so long without bursting, without blowing up.

"You had Samantha, right? I'm **sure** you've had others to help you cope."  
"You've had Aiden,** right**?"

Ashley did always go too far, always managed to fit the whole foot in that mouth. Spencer grabs Ashley's wrist, good and hard, tugging the brunette to the door with serious intent.  
She doesn't mind throwing the woman out. She doesn't mind the internal vision of Ashley's ass hitting the ground. In fact, Spencer looks forward to it.

Ashley fights this idea, though, and jerks away.  
And she pushes Spencer into the door, the knob making a painful jab to Spencer's lower back, and then Ashley is against her.

And this is the hate. And this is the ache. And this is what's been missing.

Spencer shuts her eyes, so tight that she can see stars, and she is breathing hard.  
Ashley is breathing harder, body firm and taut where they meet up, uncomfortably close.

"I **love** you and I screwed up once, I won't do it again. Forgive me and we'll go. Right now, we'll go... because I'm yours, Spencer. I think... I think I always have been, from the first damn moment I saw you."

Spencer has read this novel before.  
And she'd be a fool to pretend she hasn't, she'd be a fool to open her eyes and tumble right back into Ashley's declarations.  
She'd be a fool to give up this dull stability, wouldn't she? She'd be a fool to take this ring off and ruin the image she has created, right?  
She'd be a fool to give up her heart again, give it up to the same woman who wrecked it in the first place... isn't that true?

"Please, Spencer... come with me."

Ashley is whispering, wonderfully hot by her ear, and Spencer's eyes open without her consent.

\

There is a quote out there in the world, something about God watching out for children and fools.

Spencer can only hope that the latter part of this statement is true.

She can only hope for some kind of divine protection as she runs out of this house, lights left on and door unlocked, climbing into the passenger seat of Ashley's car.  
She can only hope and pray and beg for some bit of grace as she looks over and finds Ashley grinning at her and her own smile can't help but show up as well.

Spencer can only hope that they make it this time.

Ashley grabs Spencer's hand and holds it tight.

And maybe, this time, they will make it after all.

\

**:END:**


End file.
